bemusing
by bitterberries
Summary: For the first time in a decade, he thought somebody was beautiful. [AU]


**title: **bemusing

**rating: **m  
**pairing: **jerza  
**disclaimer:** i do not own fairy tail.  
**notes: **tumblr prompt.

**summary:** for the first time in ten years, he thought someone was beautiful. [prostitute/client au]

* * *

Jellal Fernandes was never a nice person.

Cold on the outside. Cold on the inside. And deep down, were the remains of a little boy, one who had his entire childhood stolen from him at the ages of innocence.

That's why he didn't understand it.

His apartment was wedged in between two alleyways, on the darker side of downtown. The path was always the same. The routine that clung with that path never swerved.

Work had ended at eight p.m., and he'd pulled into the apartment driveway around eight thirty. He had taken a quick shower under a rusty shower faucet. He'd changed into a cleaner long sleeve, and yesterday's jeans. He'd sighed, sat on his bed for a while, ran those calloused fingers of his through his hair while sucking on the last drag of his daily pack. The doorknob of his apartment had slid away from him, and he had flown down the short flight of outer stairs, leisurely making his way towards the liquor store fifteen minutes away for a slim new pack of cigs. The only thing different was the money,the crisp bills of his paycheck in his hand.

But he didn't come back with cigarettes.

He came back with _someone, _instead of that _something_.

And he walked ahead of her, fists in his pockets, grimacing hard at the unbalanced sidewalk under him.

This was wrong. He wasn't planning on using her like that, no, absolutely not. But it didn't matter. Jellal was a broken, messed up lad, but even he knew the idea of picking up some random, scandalously clad woman trying to sell some of her goods on the edge of the street was sick. Disturbing. Fucked up.

Him even paying attention to her was the worst part of it—gifting glances at girls like her was never a part of his routine, let alone glancing at women at all in _general. _He'd decided a long time ago that relationships with anybody were useless. It was easier being a lone ranger. But when he'd turned thatcorner, five minutes away from the shop, she was there, an inevitable presence inhis view.

Jellal wished he could pass off the few seconds he'd been forced to look at her as just a moment—a slip that he couldn't stop, something that didn't have any sort of meaning.

But as stupid and ignorant of a reason it was, she was different.

Unusual. Divergent.

In the way that she wasn't even trying.

Just like all the others, she was wearing stilettos. A ridiculous dress. A large, unbuttoned coat. But that wasn't what cultivated his curiosity.

She was stiff. Crying.

It was achieved in _that _silent passion, that all too familiar, powerful method of crying to yourselfbut not to anyone else. He couldn't see her eyes, not with the way her dark bangs had spilled over them. But despite her silence, despite the stillness of herlips, like her entire existence, her tears were something he couldn't escape.

If it had been any other person, he would have ignored them on the dot. He would have walked past her idly, uncaring, with one of his signature eye rolls. There would be no straying from the path. He'd keep a straight face, and he'd buy a new pack of cigarettes. Twenty in a bundle. Like always.

He just didn't know. He wasn't sure of what it was at all.

Was it pity? He thought he told himself to forget what that felt like.

They were nearing his apartment now, and he quickly glimpsed at her from over his shoulders, only to discover that she was avoiding his gaze.

Jellal whipped his head forward. That was fine. That was understandable.

Soon they walked up the outer stone stairs and progressed into the building, then walked up a few more flights until they finally reached his apartment.

Mindlessly, he unlocked it.

He let her in first, like the gentleman he wasn't.

Once the door was pushedback in its frame, she immediately parted her mouth, but he raised his hand, her unspoken words morphing into a surprised breath.

Jellal took the opportunity to stride closer, scanning her in the white lighting.

He then moved his palm through her cold tresses, sweeping her bangs away to fully reveal a duo of feminine, puffy onyx eyes.

Weird, he thought.

For the first time in a decade, he thought somebody was beautiful.

Or maybe it only appeared that way to him because he hadn't stared at a woman in the way he did now for years— with curiosity. But it really didn't matter how it worked out; she was pretty, and if _Jellal Fernandes_ thought that a girl was pretty, she _was._

He was looking at brown eyes, pink, plump lips upon a milky, flushed, tear dried face, and now that they were indoors, instead of a dark, sheen of a head under the night sky, he was looking at a bright, attractive shade of red.

His sight lingered a bit more over her mouth.

_She'd be prettier smiling_, he thought.

As he took his precious time examining her, it occurred to him that she was somewhat glaring at him, pride slackening in her irises— and that she didn't like his hand on her, that she hated every part of this, and was confused.

"Your name?" Jellal whispered, relaxing his palm away.

"…"

"It's just a question."

"Erza. That's it."

"…Really?"

"It's just Erza. But _don't_ call me anything during—"

He screwed his lids shut.

Oh, the irony of it all.

"I don't plan on having sex with you."

As soon as the words flew out of his mouth, her features widened, perplexity shimmering over her pupils. "What—"

"There's a room right there—" He pointed to the corner of the living room where his bedroom stayed, "—You can sleep there in my bed tonight. I'll be on the couch here. Feel free to use one of my shirts. I don't care. Just don't go back there. Don't stand on that part of town again. Something like that isn't meant for somebody like you. There's an outstanding amount of repulsive pervs out there, and they would have ignored your crying. Trust me."

"T-trust? …w-what the hell, and I-I wasn't cry—"

"You were," he said flatly. "…I won't hurt you. I won't take advantage of you like that."

Jellal sauntered away then, advancing towards the kitchen. He needed coffee. Soda. Chips. Something to satisfy the scorching emptiness from the problematic chasm in his shitty life the cigarettes usually filled in.

Her voice cracked. "There's no point of me being here then—"

"Just listen. Someone like you shouldn't do stupid things like that."

He felt a hand slap itself on his shoulder. "_No. _You don't_ even know me._ I-I have to do this. I still need the money. For my family. I need to earn—"

Jellal knitted his brows together. Fishing an eager hand in his pocket, he faced her and backed her against the middle counter, shoving his paycheck money on the surface beside her.

"…_Take it._" What the fuck was he doing?

"What—"

"You can keep this four fifty if you stay here tonight," and there was this person inside of his mind that was screeching at him to take it back, but he didn't budge. "Erza."

"…"

Jellal groaned, fisting his hands in his blue hair. He wanted to smoke. "You want some coffee?! I'm making some," he rasped, moving away, irritated at himself. Furiously, he grabbed a pot from the cabinets, and slammed it over the stove. Erza jumped.

The minutes unfolded in silence. Jellal brewed the coffee, like he said, semi ignorant to the woman behind him.

Erza swallowed, voice tight. She shattered the quietude six minutes in. "Thank you…"

Jellal shook his head. When he spun to meet her gaze once more, he noticed tears of some sort cascading down her flushed cheeks.

He wasn't sure whether to smile or not. The situation was so out of character. _He_ was out of character, doing_ all this for this one girl, this one stranger _who's tears had made him do things he never thought he'd do. For god's sake, he gave up precious gas money, electricity money, cigarette money. And he _actually bothered_ to create some use of the coffee his co-worker had given him for his twenty sixth birthday.

Jellal flicked her on the forehead, not out of annoyance, but because he wasn't good with words and it was easier expressing _you're welcome _in that way_._Briefly watching as she processed the attack with a wince, he gradually placed a cup of simmering black liquid beside her before shuffling away towards the nearby couch.

"But I still don't understand…"

Jellal stopped, registering her small, thick voice.

A quivering chuckle left him, the odd, deep sound surprising the both of them. He hadn't laughed in ten years.

"I don't either."

* * *

**notes: **i was really contemplating on making this since the request didn't really fit them, but i did the best i could lol


End file.
